When you went home you took a nice cold shower and went straight to bed. You had a bit of trouble sleeping that night. You tossed and turned in your bed. You felt a bit bad about how you had spoken to Mozart. The more you thought of you realised he was probably trying to start a conversation with you and you just ran away. You knew it was rude, and that tomorrow, after your college class. Your brain often over thought these things in the middle of the night.
When you woke up, you did your routine like normal, but this time you brushed your teeth with shaky hands, your hair, and even dressed with shaky hands. You were a little nervous about going to your job today. You had picked out a plain tan dress. It was the type old maidens would wear, but you liked it, it was modest and men wouldn't look at you proactively. You put your hair into Dutch braids, until it reached your neck. You did them very tightly, so they wouldn't fall apart.
You grabbed your purse, said goodbye to your mother and started your walk to the Vaile Mansion. It was very hot and you wished you had a hat on. The sun shone bright on your face, which you tried your best to keep pale. You felt as if dresses, light makeup, modesty, and grace, were the main factors in physical beauty.
As you turned the corner, one block away from the mansion, you felt a wave of nervousness, some would say butterflies, in your stomach. You kept going though, you knew it was childish to be worried about talking and interacting with someone, and it was how you paid for college. Well, the last one wasn't completely true, you had already saved up enough money for college and were offered many scholarships, but you turned them down, you wanted to stay in Missouri, you love it here, despite it's issues.
You walked up the stairs slowly, taking in the beauty and complexity. It was a beautiful home, tall and long, with a beautiful tan, almost aztec color, the roof was green with white trimming.
When you reached the porch, you knocked. You waited a bit, admiring the glass in the doors, it was somewhat clear with an intricate design. It took longer than usual and you were getting a bit worried, so you knocked again and heard a distant 'I'm coming!'
The door opened, it was Mozart. His hair was a mess, he was wearing an old shirt and was in his boxers. His eyes were swollen, and he looked like he had gotten into a fight, very different from the man you had seen yesterday. You blushed like a red hot pepper when you saw that he wasn't wearing any pants. He beckoned you in, and closed the door. He smiled at you. You just looked down at the floor, trying your best not to blush so much. You then asked him what your tasks for today were.
"Well first of all dear, good morning! I don't have much for you today, but if you could wash the hardwood stairs, that'd be great." He said, smiling and giggling a bit.
You simply nodded, you went up all the steps to the third floor, you figured you'd start there, and you could avoid Mozart a bit, he seemed to be a little crazy. Despite that, you thought that he was kind, you didn't expect someone from such a high up family.
You gather a bucket of water, soap, and some towels and began cleaning. The floors were very old and still had the old, authentic, mahogany wood in it. It had it cracks, but overall was in good condition. The color was also a deep red, some would consider a deep maroon. You spent about an hour on the stairs that led from the second floor to the third. You wiped the sweat off your forehead, it was tedious work, but you enjoyed this type of work, it was better than working for a large corporation.
You then started on the stairs that went from the second floor to the main, the grand staircase. You got on your knees and started to scrub, at about halfway down you got lost in thought and started to sing softly 'Nightingale' from Cinderella.
"The pear shaped tool
Oh sing sweet nightingale
Sing sweet nightingale
High above me
Oh sing sweet nightingale
Sing sweet
High above
Oh sing sweet nightingale
Sing sweet nightingale
High
Oh sing sweet nightingale
Sing sweet nightingale
Oh sing sweet nightingale
Sing sweet
Oh sing sweet nightingale
Sing
Oh sing sweet nightingale
Oh sing sweet
Oh sing"
When you had just finished the song and the staircase, you looked up, and there he was standing before you, at your feet, like a judge, and you were convicted of murder; it was Mozart. You jumped back a bit, and spilled a bit of water from the bucket. You also felt your heart pound as he looked at you. He was now well dressed, his hair was clean, he didn't have dark circles under his eyes, and he had a calm, almost happy look on his face.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, sir, I didn't mean to, I suppose I just got caught up in thought and..." You said, cutting off mid sentence. He simply just smiled at you. It freaked you out, you didn't understand why he was just standing there, stagnant, and smiling like a fool.
"Oh, dear, no need to apologize! I was just admiring it, you have quite the pretty voice!" He said, helping you up from the stairs. You blushed, you didn't think you were a good singer, and you never sang in front of people, it choked you up. He stood you up and gestured to you to come into the sitting room on the left, the male room with a piano in it. You were a little hesitant at first, but figured you weren't getting out of this with the loud, German man.
He sat down next to him on the right, and looked to the side. You still had some trouble looking him in the eyes. He laid his right hand on yours for a second and you pulled away, you didn't want to be rude, but that was unexpected. He placed a piece of music in front of you, it had words on it, it was a song you had never heard of before.
"Please dear, when I start playing, please sing along, can you do that?" He asked.
You didn't respond. You felt overwhelmed, you never sang in front of anyone, even your own mother or Viola. He then started to play, and you just sat there, as silent as a stone. You got up, it was too much for you to take, all of it, from him, to music, to just, just him, and what annoyed you the most was the fact you didn't know why.
"I'm sorry, I can't sing in front of you, you wouldn't like it." You said.
Mozart was silent, he seemed to be thinking of something. In his head, he was trying to make you open up a bit more, but at the same time he didn't want to scare you off.
"I understand, you're shy, aren't you, that is at first, but once you get to know them, you open up, don't you?" He asked.
You looked at him, a bit in shock. No one knew that about you. You simply just nodded.
"And may I ask you something, beautiful lady?" He asked, as you came closer to him.
You nodded.
"Could you come to my concert, tomorrow at 7pm, I would like to see if you'd be willing to see the backstage of opera singers, and see if maybe you'd be willing to perform?" He asked, taking your hand in his. You thought over this offer and sat down next to him again, you felt a little more at ease around him now. Finally an answer came to you.
"Well, I suppose yes, but I won't be singing on the first night though, right?" You asked.
"No, you wouldn't be singing on the first night there, I'm not a monster. I would just like you to see and talk to the other singers, if that wouldn't be too much trouble." Mozart said.
"Then yes, I'll be happy to go." You said.
He then gave you the building's address and more details. By the time he was done talking, it was time for you to go home.
"By the way, don't be scared, the people there will love you." Mozart said, as you stepped out.
